


At the beginning

by cottontails



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Donald needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 17:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottontails/pseuds/cottontails
Summary: The night he leaves the mansion for the last time, it's raining.





	At the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> A first. Both on here and in this fandom. Just testing the waters with a small ficlet. I might expand this, I might not, let's see how we go. I'm planning a big one for these ducks, so I want to practice writing their characters before delving into that. If you've got any requests just throw them my way and I'll do my best.

The night Donald left the mansion for the last time, it was raining. Apt weather for the occasion, but not exactly ideal when you have three delicate eggs and nothing but a small duffel bag and a run-down car.

He took all his savings with him and bought a ramshackle houseboat in the marina. He’d always been drawn to the water; having spent three years in the navy, and having the gentle rock of the waves soothed his frazzled nerves. The first night he was still running on the adrenaline of leaving. It was spent doing up the boat and starting the essential task of baby-proofing. He made it until two thirty the next day, figuring out the necessities of living by himself. Bills, paperwork, finding a job.

He stepped away from his makeshift desk for a breather and a coffee. Taking a deep breath, he glances at the three eggs, his sister’s _children_ , and without warning his emotions all come bubbling to the surface. All the grief, the helplessness, the anxiety, and, as much as he hates it, the rage. And not just against Scrooge and what he did, but anger at Della, for leaving her babies, for leaving _him_.

They were meant to always be together. Two parts of a whole. They were as alike as they were different, and they complimented each other in every way. Where Della was bold, Donald was cautious. Where Donald was fiery, Della was cool. And sure, their differences had caused conflict in the past, but they had never let it come between them.

They were meant to tell each other everything.

After he stops screaming at the sky, and probably giving his neighbours reason to file a complaint, he walks back into his new home, takes one look at the eggs, and promptly breaks down.

He cries until it gets dark, curled up around the three eggs. At around seven o’clock he picks himself up, blows his nose and picks up his phone. For a long moment, his thumb hovers over Scrooge’s name. He very quickly realises he doesn’t really have anyone he can call for help. He has friends, of course, he has lots of friends, from school, from college, from his stint in the Navy, but most of them are friends he would call for a catch-up coffee every so often. Not for something as monumental and life-changing as this.

But he can’t do this on his own.

He scrolls up, and starts a call.

“Olá?”

“Bueno.”

“Hey guys, I need your help.”


End file.
